


Between The Boundaries Of Control

by mollymauks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (not direct but remembered but still), Angst, Caleb and Caduceus POV, Frumpkin the therapy cat, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trent warning, abuse tw, bc let's be honest 'Trent' is a tw in itself, caduceus is a Good Boy, caduceus' tea, deserves its own tag tbh, it splits bc i'm AN INDECISIVE FUCKER, much angst, post ep 49
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymauks/pseuds/mollymauks
Summary: Ep 49-50 missing scene. Caduceus was a little preoccupied during Caleb’s confession to the party about his past as Bren, and his relationship with Trent, so Caleb thought it was only fair to sit him down and catch him up on what he missed.The drinking of tea, the exorcising of demons, and the discussing of theology transpires as a result.'The magic of the tall, swaying Zemnian fields he had played in as a child, the stalks towering above him, surrounding him, swaying above him. They had seemed so giant to such a small boy. In that moment, they had filled the entire world for him. Nothing existed but their smell, the sight of them dancing before him, the soft whispering music they played with the wind, and the blanketing sky that lay heavy above them. Yet he had never been afraid there. He had had every right to have felt fear. But he never had. They were his. They were safe. They were home.Somehow, Caduceus made him feel the same way.'





	Between The Boundaries Of Control

 

“Mister Clay?”

Caleb had knocked gently on Fjord and Caduceus’ door and pushed it open after hovering there, preparing himself, for several minutes. Given how perceptive the firbolg was, he was fairly certain he knew that, but he was polite enough to give a little start of surprise before turning to face him.

“Hi,” he said, face relaxing into that comfortable smile, his voice its usual slow, calming tone.

He didn’t bother lowering the volume of it, despite the hour, or the fact the rest of the nein were now asleep. Both of them knew that Fjord slept as soundly as the dead of Caduceus’ graveyard. And rather more so than Caleb’s.

Caleb tried to open his mouth, but something seemed to have stolen his voice between being behind the closed door to having opened it. In the dark quiet stillness of the corridor, all inside his head, the words he had planned to say had felt possible. Now, with Caduceus’ almost eerie pale eyes and soft smile on him, with a living person he was supposed to speak those sins to, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

“If you need some time you just go ahead and take it,” Caduceus said softly, seemingly knowing exactly when to fill the silence.

A moment sooner, and Caleb would have felt pressured and clammed up, a moment later, he would have apologised for bothering him and left. Now, he just stood there, stuck, as though the firbolg had used magic to bind him in place.

“It’s alright,” Caduceus continued in that steady, measured voice he had, nodding a little. Strangely, for half a heartbeat, Caleb almost believed him.

Then he cleared his throat, took a breath, and clung to the words he had prepared while standing outside, “If you are not too tired, I would appreciate it if you could join me downstairs. I promise |I will not take up too much of your time.”

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you,” Caduceus said, pleasantly, “But you can if you need to, I haven’t got anything more important to do tonight as it happens.”

Everything with Caduceus seemed so... _Simple_ to Caleb. So easy. The firbolg was arguably one of the deepest, and by far the most insightful person he had ever met. But for all that, his thought processes were always so straightforward, his words genuine and direct.

_Perhaps that is what you could have been,_ he thought, _had you not fucked up so badly you needed a thousand secrets cloaking you just to justify continuing to breathe._

“You head down now,” Caduceus said, interrupting, probably deliberately, Caleb’s increasingly darkening thoughts. “I’ll join you in a few moments, just need to grab a few essentials first.” He nodded at his teapot and cups which, now Caleb looked, were suspiciously handy, as though he had known this meeting was coming, and had prepared for it.

There was something distinctly disarming about Caduceus. He was so polite, and agreeable, and quietly charming in his own soft, slow way, that it was easy to forget how perceptive he could be. Caleb feared being alone with him, when all the things he had worked so carefully to conceal beneath the mask of dirt and obscurity became an open book before his piercing eyes.

Reading the look on Caleb’s face he gave a half shrug and said, “Just kind of figured this would be the kind of talk it’s best to have over some tea.”

“You are not wrong,” Caleb mumbled, though privately feeling he would like to add some of Nott’s liquor to the tea.

Caduceus was watching him as though he knew that, too, and had considered the wisdom of it and decided against.

For all the mud, and clothes, and bandages he was hidden behind, Caleb had rarely felt as naked as he did standing alone in a room with Caduceus Clay.

There had been a time that realisation would have terrified him.

Now, faced with someone it was impossible to lie to, he found a different way to be, and breathed for the first time since he’d woken.

There was some magic to the firbolg, a quiet, hidden kind, perhaps gifted to him by his goddess. It was the magic of hidden pools in deep, ancient forests, older than the world itself, and seemingly untouched by any until the finder’s eyes alighted upon it.

The magic of the tall, swaying Zemnian fields he had played in as a child, the stalks towering above him, surrounding him, swaying above him. They had seemed so giant to such a small boy. In that moment, they had filled the entire world for him.

Nothing existed but their smell, the sight of them dancing before him, the soft whispering music they played with the wind, and the blanketing sky that lay heavy above them.

 Yet he had never been afraid there. He had had every right to have felt fear. But he never had. They were his. They were safe. They were home.

Somehow, Caduceus made him feel the same way.

He held out his hand and accepted the cups Caduceus wordlessly passed to him. They headed downstairs to the now empty common room. For someone so large, Caleb noted, Caduceus moved almost entirely silently, especially out of his armour, stripped down to only loose trousers and shirt.

Glancing down, Caleb saw, instead of the feet he expected, large, soft padded paws, entirely bare, save for the light dusting of fur.

“Aren’t you cold?” Caleb blurted out, unable to banish memories of his frozen fingers and feet on the many nights he’d slept out in the freezing air alone.

Caduceus blinked and followed Caleb’s gaze then smiled slightly, “Can’t say I really notice. I suppose if I were, I’d have put shoes on.”

Caleb couldn’t argue with that, and couldn’t think of any kind of response, so he just turned round and continued walking down the stairs.

 The common room was almost completely dark, and Caleb automatically sent a few globules of light into the air before sinking into the deep recesses of a sagging couch and watching Caduceus stoke the fire for their tea.

Sparks burst like constellations of stars tossed casually into the waiting darkness, snuffed out again as quickly as they appeared. They burned so brightly, so beautifully, but in the end, they were meaningless and cold.

_Like me_.

He watched in silence as Caduceus took his time brewing their tea. The longer he could stall, could allow this good man to believe he was in the company of an equal, the better.

Finally, Caduceus had lifted the pot from the fire, poured the steaming tea into both cups, and handed one to Caleb.

There was nothing to hide behind anymore. Nothing to delay him.

Caduceus sat down beside him and waited patiently, legs crossed, tail curled neatly around him.

“I thought,” Caleb said, forcing each word out as though it was his last before his execution, “That I should also share with you what I told the others earlier today, which I think you missed.”

“I caught bits and pieces,” Caduceus nodded, “But I will admit, I was more focused on keeping us on the road, stopping us being attacked by giant worm creatures. It’s okay, though,” he added, “Seemed like some heavy stuff, you don’t have to go through it all again on my account.”

“I think that I do,” Caleb replied, stiffly, “You have the right to know exactly who, exactly _what_ ,” he added, jerkily, “You are travelling with.”

“Oh, I’m pretty comfy with that,” Cad replied agreeably, smiling a little.

“You might not be if you knew what I had done,” he said, voice brittle.

Of all the ways he had expected this conversation to go, Caduceus fighting with him about hearing it in the first place hadn’t factored into any of his preparations.

“I don’t know if that’s really that important,” Caduceus said, mildly, a slight frown creasing his soft, broad face, “I know what you do, that’s enough for me to understand you as a fundamentally good person.”

“The world is larger than your graveyard,” Caleb snapped, “It will not coddle you forever, let you believe the best in people because you did not want to probe beneath their surface and get to know them. It will punish you for that, and soon.”

He didn’t know where this was coming from, but it was bubbling out of him in the face of Caduceus’ calm idealism as surely as oil would draw a spark to burn.

“The world is filled with dark, and horrible things,” he told him, “You are looking at one of them now. It’s time you learned to see them.”

Caduceus cocked his head slightly to one side, his ears flicking, as though bothered by a fly, and considered Caleb. He considered him for so long in patient silence that Caleb felt shame and regret for his words creeping into him, sending a red flush from his neck into his cheeks.

He cursed softly in Zemnian, then apologised.

“It’s alright,” Caduceus said, comfortably.

Caleb wondered, fleetingly, what it would take to rouse any kind of anger in the mild-mannered firbolg. He doubted any of them could ever say anything to push him away.

“You say what you need to say, Mister Caleb,” Caduceus said placidly.

Caleb took a shaky breath, lacing his fingers together in his lap and stared into the still flickering fire. Even after all the damage he had done with it, he still found a fascinating beauty in the endless, undulating shapes.

And it felt so much easier to cast the darker spots of his soul into the ravaging heat than Caduceus’ ghostly eyes.

“You know me as Caleb Widogast, but before, when the world had big plans for me to be something, to do something important,” he took a deep, trembling breath, then said, “My name was Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

***

Caduceus nodded evenly, his ears flicking.

Finally, when it became clear that Caleb expected some sort of response, he said, “D’you want me to call you Bren, or is Caleb still good?”

“I- Caleb, Caleb is fine, for now.”

He was squinting almost suspiciously at Caduceus, as though he felt he was lulling him into a false sense of security. He couldn’t think what purpose he’d have for that, but people thought strange things sometimes.

Caduceus maintained his polite silence, peering pleasantly at Caleb as he did so. He’d found, often, that silence often brought more answers than nettling. He didn’t think Caleb’s restraint would last long in his present state.

After a few more tense, pregnant seconds, Caleb burst out, “Don’t you have questions?”

“Not really,” Caduceus shrugged mildly.

He was sure there was a reason, probably a very good one, now called himself Caleb, but it didn’t much matter to him at the moment.

Caleb stared at him as though he’d just grown an extra head. He checked, just to be sure, then said, “Should I?”

Caleb watched him for a long moment, apparently trying to decide if he was mocking him. He wasn’t.

Caleb seemed to come to that conclusion, too, because he said at last, “You are a very strange man, Caduceus Clay.”

Caduceus smiled pleasantly at that. “Oh, I think we’re all strange in our own way. You see that a lot, where I’m from.”

“A graveyard?” Caleb said, his face scrunching up in that way it did when he was confused, his words lightly touched with scepticism.

“Sure,” Caduceus replied easily, “Death has a way of making people vulnerable.”

“In my experience, it simply makes them dead,” Caleb muttered drily under his breath.

“That too,” Caduceus agreed, seriously, “But the people they leave behind,” Caleb twitched uncomfortably, but didn’t speak. Caduceus shifted into a more comfortable position, letting Caleb gather himself without eyes on him for a moment, then he said, “Grief makes everyone look different on the outside, but I think it affects everyone just the same. There’s no magic, or potion, or spell that will make a person half as honest or genuine as true grief.”

“I...Am not sure where you are going with all of this,” Caleb said, slowly.

Caduceus smiled again, “You’re blunt. I like that,” he informed him, nodding. “A person’s soul is seen most clearly when they’re in pain,” he said, quietly.

No doubt, that was why he’d always been able to see right through Caleb, regardless of how hard he tried to hide himself. Caleb seemed to sense the truth of that himself, because he caught Caduceus’ eyes then looked away again.

“Some of them try to hide it,” he went on, “They put up walls, and masks, and all sorts, but you can always see, can always tell who they are underneath it all. Whatever they try to hide can sometimes tell you more about them than the thing they’ve hidden.”

 Caleb shivered slightly, and Frumpkin appeared, trotting around the edge of his chair, winding his way comfortingly around Caleb’s legs.

Caduceus looked right at him, then said quietly, “You’ve suffered your own grief, your own pain. I can see that. The world can see that. You can hide exactly what it is but...Everyone knows all the same.”

Caleb swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. A moment later, Frumpkin leapt lightly onto his lap, and Caleb buried his hands in his thick fur, seeking the reassurance of his familiar.

“Caleb Widogast is just the mask you made to protect yourself from the world, and the world from you. But it’s still you. It’s not my place to judge you for that, or to know exactly why Caleb came to be in the first place.”

Caleb blinked at him, a faint crease between his eyes, as though he had never thought of this before.

“I met a wizard called Caleb one day. Since then, he’s been kind to me, and he’s tried to do good. I think after everything I’ve seen, all the people I’ve met, I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I trust my gut, and I trust you, Caleb. I don’t need to know anymore than that to think you’re a good person.”

They were quiet for a long time, Caduceus smiling pleasantly, Caleb gazing down at his tea, Frumpkin kneading his coat, processing.

“Most people want to know,” Caleb said, finally. “Everyone you meet, everyone you ever will, and all those you never do, they al have a story. Parts of mine are written on me. On my skin,” his fingers brushed unconsciously over the bandaging on his arms, “On my face. In my eyes.”

Caduceus nodded gently. It was rare that a person who hid themselves as completely as Caleb, and weren’t aware of what showed through the cracks in their mask.

“When you give a person half a story, natural curiosity leads them to want to know the rest.”

Caduceus smiled rather sadly at that. “My life has been filled with sad, unfinished stories from the day I was born. Every body in our graveyard was once a person with memories, and dreams, and mistakes, and stories I can never know. They might have been good people, or bad people, or more likely somewhere in between. They might have been rich, they might have been beggars. I’ll never know. None of that matters. We look after them all just the same, and the earth they’re laid in does likewise.”

Caleb was watching him with a quiet thoughtfulness, soaking in his words the way he would sit and focus on his books and drink in their words.

“People come to us every day, to bury, or grieve, or just remember. They come with their souls bared, and carry the darkest parts of their stories in their eyes. I can’t know them all. I can’t carry all their stories, and all their sadness. I’d have gone mad a long time ago if I’d even tried.”

Caleb nodded vaguely, “I understand,” he muttered, more to himself than to Caduceus.

That was okay.

When he prepared to rise from his chair, however, Caduceus went on, stalling him.

“There are some people, though, with stories that they show because they’re tearing them apart from the inside. Some people need to talk, need to tell, and share their burdens because they can’t carry them alone anymore.”

He met Caleb’s flickering gaze with his own steady one. Then he pushed the cup towards him and said, simply, “That’s what the tea is for.”

Caleb stared at him for a long time before a hoarse laugh huffed from him. It was quickly stifled, but left behind a faint half-smile.

He peered into his tea again, then asked with a twist of ironic humour, “Do you ever serve relatives tea made from their families?”

“Sure,” Caduceus said comfortably, smiling a little at the start of surprise in Caleb, who had obviously expected him to say no. “That’s their right. It usually seems appropriate,” he trailed off, considering, then added in a low mumble, “Not always appropriate to tell them that, though.”

“Who am I drinking?” Caleb asked with an open, genuine curiosity that was slightly marred by a grimace a moment later as he seemed to hear exactly what he’d just said.

“Mm,” Caduceus said, considering, having a sip and sucking in the right flavour. He had picked by smell, what had felt right when Caleb had knocked on his door. “This is Briarwood tea, if I’m not much mistaken,” he said, taking another drink. “Old family,” he mumbled, nodding slowly, “Not had any new ones for a while.”

“They make good tea,” Caleb observed lightly.

“They sure do,” Caduceus agreed with another slow smile. “Horrible people though, so I’ve heard.”

Once again, they sat together in companionable silence, sipping their tea.

Caduceus broke it by nudging, gently, “So, uh, what plans did the world have for Bren?”

Caleb stiffened, fingers flexing instinctively, as though he had to hold on to the chair to keep himself in it. He took another shaky sip of tea, then said, “There is an elite school of magic known as the Soltryce Academy in Rexxentrum. I was educated there as a young man.”

Caduceus nodded encouragingly to show he was listening, but didn’t speak. He had seen the blank, wide-eyed look on Caleb’s face before. It was the look of someone who was both here and a thousand miles and several decades away at the same time.

Any interruption would clam him up and cause damage that would be very difficult to fix. This kind of thing was like purging a poison. The important thing was to get it out before it killed him.

That was why Caduceus was here, to help guide it out.

***

“I had only been at the Academy for a few months when an older mage, a teacher, and member of the Cerberus Assembly named Trent Ikithon took an interest in me.”

Caleb tensed instinctively, and for a moment he froze and closed his eyes. Then he regretted it, and snapped them open. But not quickly enough to avoid the bursting image of the face he thought would haunt him long after Caduceus’ earth had turned his body to fungus.

“He was...Charming,” he said, breathless, “Always, very charming,” he said, his words starting to slip just a little, coming faster than he’d intended.

He’d always thought he had good self-control, that Trent had trained him better than this. Lies. All of that was lies. Everything he had ever seen in himself, everything anyone had ever seen, it had all been a lie.

 “He was a very talented mage, a master of his craft. I was a nothing,” he gave a little twitchy shrug, shaking his head. “One step above a beggar, from a nothing town. I was young. I had stood out among my peers, he said. I thought then that I was invincible, and fabulously intelligent, and that the world was mine for the taking.” He trailed off, sinking into a pit of self-disgust.

He coughed a little clearing his throat and continuing as though he could be calm when talking about this, “His interest in me was flattering. The idea that someone like him could be interested in someone like me...” He shook his head.

He had chosen him well. At that age, he had had just enough innate talent and confidence in himself to believe he could be special, while still needing the validation and encouragement Trent provided.

And ambition. Yes. He’d had just enough ambition to see the opportunity to be better, better than where he had come from. As if he could ever be better than the best people he had ever known.

He had been stupid. Stupid, and greedy, and _weak_.

Caleb jumped slightly as Caduceus patted his arm with a huge but gentle hand, “Drink your tea before it gets cold,” he said softly, and Caleb realised he had gotten lost in the twisted mess that was his mind again.

He did as Caduceus suggested and took another sip of tea. It warmed him, and soothed him at once.

“Anyway,” he muttered, determined to finish what he’d started now. “He called me in to meet him privately. He asked me many questions and he, he seemed genuinely curious, genuinely interested in me, and proud of what I had learned and achieved.”

He had always been proud. Even when he had failed, let him down. Sometimes he would be angry, and rightly so, given how badly he’d fucked up. But once his anger, and the punishments it had made him give out, passed he had always told Caleb that he was proud of him, and that he just had to try a little harder next time.

He had always promised that he would.

“Eventually,” Caleb said, drawing in a rough, rattling breath with difficulty, “He took me, and two others, into his own private classes. He trained us and he, he experimented on us,” he shivered at the memories.

The pains still woke him in the night. The screams...

“Experimented?” Caduceus prompted him gently.

He realised he’d been staring into the fire, reliving the sessions, for how long, he didn’t know.

Clearing his throat, he said, “He, ah, put crystals into our skin. Like this,” he gently tapped the large pink crystal at the top of Caduceus’ staff.

“ _Into_ you?”Caduceus repeated, brow furrowing.

“Ja,” Caleb said, a little hoarsely.

Unable to find the words, again, he unwrapped one of his bandages to show Caduceus. The firbolg stared at him with sad eyes, reached out, then stopped himself.

“May I?”

Caleb nodded wordlessly.

Caduceus gently brushed his fingers over the pale scars, bumping over some of the more pronounced ones. Most of them were nearly invisible, he doubted that anyone who didn’t know to look for them would notice them. But he knew. And he could never not stare at them, _feel_ them, and the memories that connected to them when they were uncovered.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Caleb,” Caduceus said, solemnly.

Caleb opened his mouth to protest, but the big firbolg continued, “If you want I could, uh, try and do something about these,” he said, blinking with concern, “I’m not sure if any of my magic could help, but a cream, an oil, or-“

“No,” Caleb said, too quickly. “No,” he repeated, more calmly this time. His fingers ghosted absently over one of the exposed scars as he spoke. “I- Thank you, Caduceus, it is a kind offer but no that, that is not necessary.”

If the scars were removed he would feel too...Too _clean_ , too perfect. It would be unreal and, strangely, would feel the same as destroying an ancient and unique historical text. The marks were painful, and he did not want to look at them, or have others look at them. But they were a part of him. An ugly, broken part, but a part all the same. He would feel _wrong_ without them.

Caduceus made him jump as he reached over and patted Caleb gently on the shoulder, nearly causing him to pour his tea all over himself.

“He was a monster, you know,” he said, solemnly.

“There are a lot of monsters in this world,” he said seriously, “And the real ones are never what we warn our children about.” Caleb shook his head jerkily and said, feeling suddenly a little breathless, “He was not a monster, not truly. He was just a man, a man in the middle of a war with, with a lot of responsibilities. He had to make difficult decisions for the good of the empire and...And he did.”

He could sense Caduceus looking at him and deliberately stared into the fire to avoid his gaze, swallowing hard. He did not want to see the disgust or pity he would find there. He did not deserve it.

“He hurt you,” Caduceus said, carefully, “maybe he had a duty to protect Wildemount, but he had a duty to protect you, too, surely, as your mentor. And he hurt you instead. That was wrong.”

Caleb let out an involuntary snort of humourless laughter, “Me?” he said. “What was I to him? I was a nothing, an o-one, a stupid peasant boy with dreams too big for his station. I did not matter compared to a continent, a war. What was I to an empire?”

“A person,” Caduceus said, with that simple, blunt honesty of his. “You were a person.”

Caleb scoffed again at that and muttered under his breath, “Not a very good one.”

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly, “No-one deserves that,” he said, glancing towards Caleb’s arms again. He shook his big head sadly, ears drooping, his voice low and heavy.

“I agreed to it, you know,” Caleb said, suddenly, inexplicably defensive, “I needed to be stronger. He needed me to be stronger. He _needed_ me, and I, I said yes.”

_Take them out! Take them out!_

He had screamed that, had begged him over and over and over again. But of course, he had not taken them out. Not in the middle of it all.

He had held him, though, afterwards. He had held him, and stroked his hair, the way his mother used to do. He had told him how well he’d done, what a good boy he had been, how proud he was of him.

Just like that, all of the pain had been worth it.

Now, in the flickering semi-darkness of the inn’s common room, the memory made him feel slightly sick.

“It didn’t pan out you know, at the Academy,” he said mechanically, feeling some kind of compulsion to just keep talking, to not let the silence close in on him now, as it so often had, knowing what would come from it. “Things...Happened,” he muttered, evasively, and Caduceus just nodded, apparently not even considering pushing him. “And I went a little crazy for a while there. Then I met Nott, then the rest of them, and then you.”

Caduceus was quiet for so long, periodically sipping his tea that, had it not been for that, Caleb might have thought he had fallen asleep. Yet his eyes remained open, looking down into his tea.

At last, he said, slowly, “What now, then? I mean,” he added, seeing the sight frown of confusion on Caleb’s face, “With Trent, and the Academy, and everything. Do you want revenge, or-“

Caleb shook his head violently at that, his hands flexing convulsively again.

“I,” he rasped, hoarsely, “I do not ever want to see that man again as long as I live,” he whispered fervently.

He remembered only too well the sheer, blinding terror that had possessed him when he had realised he was _there_ at the Victory Pit in Zadash. He never wanted to feel that again, that frozen, paralysing fear. All he wanted was to be invisible. To get more powerful, quietly. To put right the terrible things he had done and then...Then finally get what he deserved.

“Because you’re afraid of what you might do?” Caduceus prompted gently.

“No,” Caleb replied. He was staring into the fire once more, allowing the hypnotic power of the flames to draw him in. Almost trance-like, he said, “Because I know exactly what I will do if I ever come face to face with that man again.”

He could see it. He could picture it so clearly he swore he could almost _feel_ it. As though it was a memory, not a fantasy.

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and said, voice wavering between the boundaries of his control, “I would get down on my knees in the dirt in front of him. And I would look up at him, and beg for his forgiveness, and promise to do better for him in the future.”

His voice broke. He closed his eyes and buried his fingers into Frumpkin’s thick, soft fur.

He was shaking so violently he felt as he had on the streets that winter, shivering and freezing, on the verge of death. But he would sooner go back to that than the Academy. To Trent. He _couldn’t_ go back there. He had failed. He had fucked it all up. He was weak, and he was stupid, and scared, and pathetic.

He could not go back.

They would kill him, and he couldn’t die until he had fixed what he’d done, he’d decided that.

With a start, he looked up at Caduceus whom he’d almost forgotten was there as he said, “Huh.”

“What?” Caleb snapped, a little more sharply than he’d intended because of how much he’d managed to work himself up, and because Caduceus’ final reaction seemed so inadequate in terms of everything else that he had confessed to him.

“I think I’m finally starting to understand why the Wildmother sent me to you.”

Caleb stared blankly at him before managing to get out, jerkily, “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” Caduceus began, politely, “You’re maybe going to wind up in a bad situation down the road, one that could lead you into making some very bad decisions, and I figure, with the way things are going, I’ll be there to help stop that from happening.”

He said all of this so simply, as though it was as plain and obvious as adding two and two and coming out with four.

Caleb stared incredulously at him, sure he had misunderstood, despite Caduceus’ very clear explanation.

“You believe,” he said, trying, and largely failing, to keep any hint of sarcasm from his voice. “That your goddess thinks so little of you that she sent you out with a bunch of arseholes like us because your destiny is to protect me from getting exactly what I deserve?”

“Sure,” Caduceus said, nodding comfortably.

If he had been anyone else, Caleb would have been sure he was mocking him, but he couldn’t bring himself to really believe that Caduceus had it in him to even consider that, especially in a situation like this.

“Destiny is a funny thing, at least the way I think of it,” he explained evenly. “It’s not so much a singular goal that your entire life is driven towards. I figure it’s more a kind of path you’re supposed to go down. Sometimes we get a little lost, and that’s when the Wildmother just gives me just a little nudge in the right direction.” He smiled placidly at Caleb, gave a little half-shrug and added, “On this path she’s put me down, I’ll be there when you have that moment of confrontation and I’ll be able to protect you from yourself. And him.”

There was a long, heavy silence, in which Caleb stared into Caduceus’ pale, guileless eyes, and tried, almost desperately, to wring some kind of lie or judgement from them. When he couldn’t, he crumbled.

“Why?” he said, hoarsely, “Why would you want to do that? Protect me of all people when there are others out there much more deserving of your time and help?”

“It’s not always a case of want, you know,” Caduceus replied, frowning a little as though he hadn’t really ever stopped to consider what he wanted when it came to his goddess. “I trust the Wildmother, for myself, and for all the things that are much bigger than me. I follow where she leads.”

“ _Wherever_ she leads?” Caleb pressed him, pointedly. “What if she led you to do something terrible that was entirely against your own moral beliefs?”

He expected Caduceus to argue that the Wildmother would never ask anything like that of him, and that was why he trusted her so completely. But the big firbolg just smiled gently and said, “I guess that’s why it’s faith.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“And secondly, not a lot of people get what they deserve in my experience. I’ve buried good people before, young people, even children, and I’ve heard that bad people, sometimes the ones that put them there, live long, full, happy lives. I’m not a very smart person,”

Caleb opened his mouth automatically to protest, but Caduceus didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. It was merely a simple statement, like most everything else.

 “I don’t really know, but I don’t think life is about getting what we deserve, good or bad.” He frowned slightly, then added, as an afterthought, “Not too sure what it is about, but I don’t think it’s that.”   

Caleb sat in stunned silence for a moment, then he said quietly, “How can you have faith in your goddess when she allows you to live in a world like that?” he said, voice brittle. “If she was worth following and believing in, wouldn’t she try to fix that injustice? To bring some more order to the world?”

Caduceus didn’t seem in the least offended by these brusque comments. On the contrary, he chuckled in a low, bass rumble.

“Oh, no, that’s not really what she does. She’s more concerned with nature, and keeping that right. Things live, and then they die. Big things eat little things so they can survive. Seasons come, and go. And there’s a little chaos in there, too, because you can never really control nature. That’s why it’s there. Keeps us all humble. Whether you’re a god, or a beetle, you can’t stop the rain from falling, or the winds from blowing. And the earth will outlast you. Best you can do is try and make sure that it remembers you fondly once you’re gone.”

Caleb studied him a long time before saying quietly, “I think you are wrong about one thing, my friend. I think you are a very smart person.”

“Oh,” Caduceus’ big face split suddenly in a wide smile. “Well thank you, that’s very kind of you to say that.”

“I do not think your earth will remember me kindly,” Caleb muttered without thinking, gazing into the depths of his tea. “I don’t really think anything will.”

“I would,” Caduceus replied, so simply it was impossible for the words to be anything but sincere. “I think a lot of people would. One of the saddest things about dying is that, a lot of the time, people don’t realise the impact they have until they’re gone. And then they’re not around to realise it anymore.”

“I can assure you,” Caleb said, voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady, “I have not had any kind of impact on anything that will be missed.”

“If you think about it, I think you know that’s not true,” he said quietly.

Caduceus fixed him with that eerie, ghostly pale gaze that made Caleb feel as though he was peering beyond skin, and flesh, and bone, into the very soul of him. What little he had left.

He squirmed uncomfortably.

“Perhaps if I were to drop dead this very moment-“

“I mean, I wouldn’t let that happen. I’m pretty good about that. But go on.”

“Perhaps I would be truly missed by this little group of ours,” he grimaced and took a deep breath. “But that is because none of you have been with me long enough to realise I will hurt you all in the end. I am a poison that eats away at you, and by the time you realise that, it is too late.”

“Well, that’s an unpleasant idea, certainly,” Caduceus muttered, shaking his head slightly, with water trapped in its ears. “But you don’t get to decide the effect you have on people. And you might be smart, much smarter than me, but you aren’t always the smartest person in the room, and you’re not always right. ‘Specially about things like this.”

“Well, we will see,” Caleb muttered darkly, now staring at his hands.

“We will,” Caduceus agreed.

He patted Caleb gently on the shoulder, “You can’t see the truth of what happened before right now, and that’s okay. But someday, hopefully someday soon, you’ll be ready, and you will. It’ll hurt you. It’ll come close to ruining you. If you survive it, you won’t be the same person anymore. But you’ll be able to start moving on, and letting scars form where you don’t even see wounds yet, ‘cause they’re ones you have to make yourself to get this out of you. But you will.”

He smiled and got to his feet unexpectedly.

“I’ve got a good feeling about you, Caleb Widogast. Yeah. A good feeling.”

He turned and began to amble back towards the stairs.

“You speak as though you have some experience with this,” Caleb said, needing to say something instead of facing what Caduceus had just laid bare before him, and fell back on deflecting it back towards him.

“Yeah. I do know some things,” Caduceus replied with a strange, agreeable vagueness that was so unique to him. “And I’ll be there for you when this all hits you. And I think the rest of them, they’ll be there too, even if you don’t want them. Maybe especially if you don’t want them,” he added, after a short pause, “Because that means you need them.”

Nodding to himself, he continued to pad up the stairs, humming gently to himself, leaving Caleb alone by the fire in the empty common room, absently petting the quietly purring Frumpkin.

He watched the fire until it burned down to embers and finally to ash, leaving the room in darkness.

If Caduceus knew what he had done, he might feel less comfortable in helping him. Maybe that was all Caleb would be to him, in the end, a test of faith. A task so repulsive it made him question his Wildmother.

Yet, somehow, he couldn’t banish the thought that perhaps Caduceus could be right. Perhaps there was something more to the two of them being on this path together. After everything that had happened, he didn’t believe in fate or destiny. He didn’t believe in anything.

But, he thought as he slowly climbed the stairs following the ghosts of Caduceus’ footsteps, if he ever was to believe anyone, or anything again, he could do a lot worse than Caduceus Clay.

***

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at a Clayleb fic. I wobbled a few times with Caduceus' characterisation, so if you have any thoughts on that let me know!!
> 
> Otherwise, comments fuel /more suffering/ for these poor characters, so if ur about that, u know what to do. 
> 
> Thanks for reading y'all!!


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